The Case of the Missing Wool Hat: Monkees One Shot
by smoshen
Summary: It's two hours before a gig...and Mike's trusty wool hat is missing! It's a race against time as The Monkees drive around town, running into old friends in search of Mike's constant companion. Will they make it in time for the show?


It was a peaceful afternoon in The Monkee's beachside pad in LA. Not too quiet, not too noisy. That is, until Mike Nesmith came storming down the spiral staircase in a panic. Oblivious to the other three guys who were trying to enjoy the lovely day, he began to search feverishly through furniture and other things.

"Mike man, what in the world are you doing?" asked Mickey, who had nearly been thrown off his chair by a crazy Mike.

"Didn't you notice?" asked Mike. "My hat's gone!" He pointed to his bare head where his famous green wool hat did usually sit. Instead, all that was on his head was a mess of dark hair.

"Easy man, we'll find it," said Davy. "Now, where did you last put it?"

"I took it off earlier when I went to brush my hair, and then I couldn't find it anywhere!" said Mike, opening the fridge. "Any of you put it in here?"

"Mike, that's ridiculous," said Peter. "If I were to put a wool hat _anywhere_, it would be in the pantry next to the cereal!"

"Isn't that dumb?" asked Mickey to no one in particular.

"Listen guys, we have a gig in two hours, and I'm telling you right now I am _not," _playing it without my hat!" snapped Mike.

"Okay, okay Mike, keep your pants on, ya don't wanna lose those too," said Davy. "We'll just take The Monkeemobile around town, talk to some people, and find out where your hat may be. Simple as that."

"I still think you should look in the pantry," said Peter. He was told to shut up by the other three and the band went out to the brightly colored Monkeemobile and drove off into the Los Angeles streets.

"Hey guys, look, it's Mr. Babbit!" yelled Mickey, pointing to the sidewalk where, lo and behold, none other than Mr. Babbit the landlord was strolling. Mike pulled the car over and the boys hopped out.

"Hey there Mr. Babbit!" greeted Mike.

"Oh…boys, what do you want?" said Mr. Babbit, thrown off to see his obnoxious tenants on the street.

"Pardon us sir, but have you happened to see Mike's hat anywhere around here?" asked Davy. "We're playing a gig today and well, Mike's refusing to go on if he doesn't find his hat."

"Oh—come on boys, don't be so silly!" snapped Mr. Babbit. "Of course I haven't seen Mike's hat. Come to think of it, it's probably buried somewhere in that mess of a place you call your home! Which, in fact, I expect cleaned up and actually paid off for the month before it's too late!"

"So…you _don't _know where the hat is?" asked Mickey.

"No, I don't know where the hat is!" screamed Mr. Babbit, liable to explode any second.

"Okay, just checking," said Mickey.

"Okay sir, but if you happen to find it, please return it," said Peter. "Mike misses that hat something awful!" Before the grumpy landlord had a chance to retort, the boys were back in the car and driving further down the road.

"Man, this is useless guys," moaned Mike. "I'm never gonna find my hat, maybe I should just buy a new one and leave it at that."

"No, you're not gonna buy a new hat!" said Davy. "Come on Mike, that's your hat, no one else's! Your wool hat! Man, just think of all the groovy times you've had with it!"

Mike searched through his mind and thought…yes, he indeed have a lot of great times with his trusty wool hat. He remembered how it felt atop his head, keeping his hair in check and keeping his head warm when it got cold. No. He was not going to get a new hat. He needed his one and only hat!

"You're right Davy," said Mike. "This is my hat, and I'm not gonna give up until I find it!"

"That's the spirit Mike!" said Peter. "But where are you gonna look next?"

"I'm looking out for—hey, wait, is that Natasha?" said Mike, slowing down to get a good look at the young woman on the sidewalk.

"Hey, I think that _is _her!" said Mickey.

"Oh boy…" groaned Peter, making a face. He hadn't seen Natasha, the beautiful ballerina, since she dumped him for some guy who looked just like him…right after he had saved her life. Mike had never met her, but he recognized her from pictures. Mike pulled up and parked like he had done with Mr. Babbit and the four got out of the car once more.

"Hey Natasha," greeted Davy.

"Oh! Mickey, Davy!" said Natasha enthusiastically. "Ah…Peter…" It was a rather awkward moment; Peter gave her a small nod which was reciprocated by the dancer. "What brings you to meet me here?"

"Well Miss Natasha, we never met," said Mike. "I'm Mike, I'm one of these guys by the way, and well, I seem to have lost my hat. Green wool cap, seen it anywhere?"

"No…I am afraid not Mike," said Natasha. "I only wish I could help you more, like the other three had helped me." Well…Peter thought…at least he was acknowledged for something. "Sadly, I must be off; my love Alexei is expecting me home soon."

Peter pulled another face again.

"Oh…well see ya around I guess," said Davy.

"I will search high and low for that hat!" swore Natasha. "And Peter?"

"Yeah?" asked Peter, coming out of whatever kind of trance he was in.

"You still have the most _amazing _face," said Natasha. She stroked his cheek and gave him a smile as she lightly pranced off.

"I still don't get her bag," said Mickey.

"Just goes to show all women are crazy," said Peter, touching his face.

"The crazy ones are fun," said Davy, winking.

"Oh, come on guys!" said Mike. "This isn't about girls, crazy or not, this is about my hat! Now are we gonna go on looking or what?"

"Right away!" sung Peter. He hopped into the open roof of the car, landing smack on his face and flailing his arms and legs trying desperately to keep his balance.

"Alright, up ya get Big Pete," said Davy, pushing Peter up as he squeezed into the backseat with him. Mike stepped on the gas once again and they were off. People they knew were getting scarce as they drove further and further away from their pad. Until suddenly—

"Hey, it's Millie!" Mickey shouted, causing Mike to nearly crash in pulling over. Millie was a sweet but lonely (well, that is until she married Larry the Moving Man) old woman who had lived in their pad for a short time when Mr. Babbit threatened to kick them out.

"Oh…why hello boys!" said Millie, mildly shocked that she was seeing them.

"Oh boy Millie are we glad to see you!" said Mike, breathless.

"Okay boys, what did you do this time?" asked Millie. "Is the faucet leaky again, cause I can come back and help. Oh! Maybe you want some more of my cheesecake—!"

"Nah, it ain't that," said Mike. "I'm missing my hat and we have a gig in less than two hours, have you seen it?"

"Not a single yarn Mike," said Millie.

"Oh…well…can we have some cheesecake then?" asked Peter hopefully, his dimpled smile wide. Davy elbowed him, making his smile become replaced with a sour face.

"It's okay Millie," said Mike. "I guess I'll have to keep looking."

"Well good luck boys!" said Millie as they all got back into the car. "Oh, and Mickey?"

"Yeah Millie?" asked Mickey.

"Do fix that faucet when you boys get back home, I can hear it from here," said Millie. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Nah, I don't mind Millie," said Mickey, grinning. Oh boy, had this happened before.

"Have a safe search boys!" said Millie as they drove off. Mike combed his fingers through his hair, searching for the missing hat in his thick, dark locks. They ran into a few more assorted people, none of whom knew a thing about the whereabouts of Mike's missing hat. Soon after, the four boys returned to their pad.

Mike, sulking, said, "Well guys, I guess we better start to pack for the gig."

"Are you gonna play without your hat then?" asked Davy.

"Gonna have to," said Mike. "I'm hungry, what's in the pantry?"

"Maybe more than you think!" said Peter eagerly.

"Peter, I said it once, and I'm gonna say it again," said Mike. "My hat is _not_ in the pantry!"

"Coming from the one who looked in the fridge," said Peter.

But as Mike searched through the pantry looking for something to eat, he grabbed hold of something soft and fuzzy…could it be?

"It's my hat!" cried Mike joyously as he yanked it out of the pantry and shoved it on his head. "Gee Pete, you were right! How did you know?"

"Well, where else would you put a hat?" asked Peter.

"I can think of better places to put a hat," said Mickey. "But the point is it's not lost anymore!"

"So now that Mike's got his hat, can we get going before we're late and get yelled at?" asked Davy, gathering up his maracas.

"Absolutely!" said Mike, getting his guitar. "Men—to The Monkeemobile! We've got a gig to play!" As the group headed outside, a strong gust of wind picked up, yanking Mike's hat right off his head. He let out a yelp and dashed after it, jumping and snatching at the air in hoped of getting his beloved wool hat back again.

"I guess if the pantry couldn't have his hat…no one can!" said Peter shrugging.

"Shut up and get in the car Pete," said Mickey. The three watched from the car as Mike tried in vain to catch his hat. Just a day in the life of The Monkees.


End file.
